Part 28 (1/2)

”Were you giddy? how white you looked. Shall we sit down a little?

your hand is trembling still.”

”It was nothing, I have not been strong lately; yes, we will sit, the air will do us both good. What were you saying, Lady Redmond?” as though the words were not burned into her memory: ”Dear Margaret!”

Why, the very angels must have wept to hear him!

”Whom could he mean?” continued Fay, with nervous reiteration. ”I don't believe Mrs. Heron was right when she said that he was thinking of his baby sister; he would have called her Joyce. Margaret; there is no one that I know who has that name except yourself; but,” looking at her doubtfully, ”though you were old friends, it was not likely that he meant you.”

A deep flush rose to Margaret's face, a quick pet.i.tion for help and wisdom to guide her at this critical moment rose from her heart.

”He used to call me Margaret, in the old days,” she said, in a very low voice. ”That need not surprise you, Lady Redmond, as we were such old friends; his mother called me Margaret too.”

”You knew his mother.”

”Yes, when I was a child, Sir Hugh and I were playfellows; has he not told you that; ah, well, it is sad when old friends get estranged.

Lady Redmond, I see you have a question on your lips, may I ask you not to put it. I think that it would not be acting honorably to your husband if you should hear anything from our lips; he can not tell you himself now, but it will not hurt you to wait.”

”No,” replied Fay, slowly, ”no, it would not hurt me to wait, as you say, but then you see Hugh may refuse to tell me, as he did before.”

”Will you ask him again, and see if he refuse? will you tell him that Margaret Ferrers begs him most earnestly to tell you why Redmond Hall and the Grange are estranged? tell him, that no consideration for us need seal his lips any longer, that he has always been free to speak, that we will willingly take our share of blame; will you tell him this?”

”Oh, yes,” returned Fay, in a relieved voice; ”and he will be sure to tell me now; no doubt he was afraid of paining you in some way. Hugh is so kind-hearted, he hates to make any one uncomfortable. I will not try to find out any more by myself; I will be good and patient until he gets well.”

”That is spoken like a brave wife,” replied Margaret, with a faint smile. ”By one who loves her husband more than herself.”

”As I love Hugh,” was the soft response; ”dear Miss Ferrers, I must go now; the ponies will be growing restless, and I am a long way from home.”

”Yes, I must not keep you. G.o.d bless you, Lady Redmond. Will you forgive me if I stop here, for I have been walking from Pierrepoint, and need rest,” but Margaret did not add that her strength had forsaken her, and that she dared not move from her place for fear her limbs should refuse to carry her; she would wait a little until strength came back, and she could meet Raby with her usual calmness.

”Yes, you look very tired,” was Fay's unconscious answer; ”but you will soon get rested with this lovely air.” And then she kissed her affectionately, and went up the beach with her old elastic step, and Margaret watched her sadly until she was out of sight.

”She is sweet and good, but he does not love her yet,” she said to herself; ”but it will come, it must come in time.”

Fay drove happily home, and was met at the lodge gates by the good news that Sir Hugh had had an hour or two's refres.h.i.+ng sleep, and that Dr. Conway, as well as Dr. Martin, were quite satisfied with the progress he had made.

”Oh, could it be quite true?” Fay asked, when she reached the Hall.

Yes, it was quite true the fever had abated. Sir Hugh's wonderful strength and vitality had triumphed at last, and the doctors soon announced that he was out of danger.

There were still days of weary waiting for Fay before it was p.r.o.nounced safe for her to enter her husband's sickroom; but at last the day came, and one sweet spring evening, Hugh waking up from a brief doze, felt tears falling on his forehead, and saw Fay leaning over him. He was too weak even to put out his hand, but a faint smile came to his lips. ”My Wee Wifie,” Fay heard him say, but the next moment the smile had died away into sadness.

CHAPTER XXI.

”LET ME SEE MARGARET.”

Be with me, love, when weak and worn, My life chord vibrates to and fro; When with the flood-tide's backward flow, My soul stands waiting to be gone.

And let me, with my failing hand, Hold fast to that I love so well, Till thine clasps but an empty sh.e.l.l, Amid the drift-weed on the sand.